


You'll Wish You Never Met Me

by CalypsoFiremoon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: After Reichenback Fall, Gen, Reichenbach Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-06-10 16:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6963469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalypsoFiremoon/pseuds/CalypsoFiremoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sherlock's fall, John Watson is left alone to grieve. He isn't taking Sherlock's death well. In order to lure Sherlock out of hiding, John is kidnapped by none other than James Moriarty, who is in fact alive. Will Sherlock be able to rescue his friend in time? Or will Sherlock and John be forever torn apart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How Not to Cope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ashley Kolojek](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Ashley+Kolojek).



You'll Wish You Never Met Me

Chapter One

How Not to Cope

John Watson sat in his chair in 221B Baker Street. He stared at the black empty one in front of him. It had been two weeks since Sherlock...no he mustn't think about it. Sherlock was just gone, out on a case maybe. Any minute now Sherlock would come home with a triumphant look. They would order takeout and drink tea. John would just have to wait. 

It only took John several minutes to loose it. He screamed bloody murder and curled into a fetal position. He began sobbing uncontrollably for the death of his friend. He missed Sherlock so much. He made John whole. They were a team. One wasn't seen with out the other. They were best friends. They were Yin and Yang. Now, John was left alone, and he didn't have the will to live anymore. He took a couple of breaths to calm himself. He couldn't afford to go into shock. There was no one to help him this time. Taking a few deep breaths, John stood up. He walked over to the kitchen where Sherlock's chemistry set still lay where he had left it. With a powerful shove, John pushed the beakers and test tubes onto the linoleum with a satisfying crash. Suddenly filled with shame, John sank to the floor curling up. Why did Sherlock have to commit suicide? Why couldn't John just delete the memory like Sherlock could?

Suddenly, John heard the door being knocked on. He stood up sharply and walked over to the mirror hung above the mantle. His brown hair looked black from lack of care. His eyes were bloodshot and had dark circles. He looked awful. Lestrade would beat his ass if he knew what John looked like now. He ran his fingers through his hair. He bent down and picked up a few things that lay on the coffee table between the two chairs. He didn't hear the Spider crawl in. He felt a needle prick his neck, and then he fell unconciouss.


	2. Caught in a Web

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Moriarty begins torturing John. At first it's just for fun, but somehow the criminal finds out that Sherlock is exploiting his empire. Now John's life is on the line and Sherlock is desperate to save his friend. Will Sherlock find John in time? Or will John be the one to fall?

You'll Wish You Never Met Me  
Chapter Two  
Caught in a Web

 

When John awoke, he knew something bad was going to happen. First of all, what he could see was only darkness. Second, he could feel cold metal wrapped around his ankles and wrists. He was laying down upon his back on something cold and solid. His mouth clenched in concentration, he strained his wrists trying to test the metals strength. But the chains were pulled too tight to move at all. He stopped straining and began breathing heavily. He didn't do well in the dark. He felt as if the walls were closing in around him, cutting off his air supply. He shook his head roughly, causing a headache to spark in the back of his head. He didn't know how much of this he could take. 

"Ah, you're finally awake Johnny-Boy!" The voice John most feared spoke from the darkness. 

"No, no you're supposed to be dead!" John cried. "I read about it in the paper. You killed yourself when Sherlock" John paused, the fact of Sherlock's suicide still fresh. "Jumped."

"Surprise!" Moriarty cheered. "Now, let's have some fun shall we?" 

John heard footsteps come closer to him. He grit his teeth harshly and strained against the chains that were restraining him. He saw a faint flash of silver before horrible pain split through his chest. A piece of metal had been stabbed into his chest, most likely a knife. John immediately when into Doctor mode, blood loss equals dizziness, shock, coma if it's very serious. This is what went on through John's mind as Moriarty carved into him. 

When Moriarty finished, he grinned as the Cheshire cat. Written in spidery letters upon John's chest was: James Moriarty. Now the soldier would never be able to erase the memory of the criminal. Watching John's chest bleed sluggishly down his chest, Moriarty cleaned his knife with a handkerchief. John's breathing became labored. Each breath grew harder to take as his blood continued to pour out.

"Please," John barely whispered, not actually wanting Moriarty to hear him beg like a weak dog.

"What was that Johnny?" Moriarty sneered, grabbing the back of John's head and pulling it back sharply. 

John cried out in pan as Moriarty pulled his head back. The iron grip was unmerciful. 

"Please," John repeated. "No more."

"Well," Moriarty sighed. "Since you asked so nicely." Moriarty threw John's head back more sharply before releasing. 

John sighed in relief. He dropped his head back down and went lax. Then, John heard the door open and shut. He wished Sherlock would come and...then John realized that Sherlock wasn't coming to the rescue. Sherlock won't come and save him because he was dead, buried six feet underground. With that realization, John began to sob. His chest heaved painfully, but he ignored it. He would now be imprisoned here for the rest of his life; or at least until Moriarty was finished with him. 

John didn't know how long he was left in the dark. At fist it only felt like minutes. But his chest wound stopped bleeding and had begun to scab over. The intense pain was still coursing through his veins with no relief in sight. He began to crave human contact. He tried to call out for help, but his throat was so dry he couldn't utter a sound. John didn't know this, but he had only been captured for a weeks time. 

 

Moriarty watched through a computer screen as John began to fall apart. He giggled manically when he shut the screen down. 

"Sir!" A new voice interrupted Jim's happy thoughts. Sebastian Moran, Moriarty's second-in-command threw open the door.

"This had better be good Moran." Moriarty growled not even bothering to look at Moran. 

"Sir, it's Holmes," Sebastian rasped out breathlessly.

"Is the Iceman finally seeing reason?" Moriarty inquired.

"No, it's the other one." Moran replied. 

"Sherlock Holmes is dead!" The Consulting Criminal screamed, kicking the chair he was formerly sitting on.

"No, sir, we just received news from our informant in Russia." Moran elaborated. "Sherlock's alive."

For the first time in his life, Jim Moriarty's mind went blank. His eyes were blown wide in shock making Moran step back. 

"If I find out that you're lying to me." Moriarty voice grew dangerously soft. He lunged at Moran and gripped his throat.

"No sir it's true!" Moran gasped out, prying at Moriarty's hands. 

"Well, well, well," Moriarty replied slowly, the gaze in his eyes turning distant. "Johnny-boy, someone's in big trouble." 

Moriarty released Moran's neck and demanded him to leave. He had a monotonous amount of thinking to accomplish.


	3. Sherlock's Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we are introduced to Sherlock's return. Only to find John missing and everyone upset with Sherlock. Moriarty begins to send Sherlock pictures and videos of what is happening to John. Will Sherlock be able to rescue John in time before they both loose their minds?

You'll Wish You Never Met Me  
Chapter Three   
Spider's Venom

 

Down below Buckingham Palace, Mycroft Holmes was being berated by his younger, very much alive, brother. 

"I gave you one request while I was gone!" Sherlock Holmes shouted. "All I asked was for you to keep John Watson safe and what happened?!"

"Sherlock!" Mycroft snapped, making his youngest brother freeze. "Moriarty has John, he's had him this entire time. And he knows you're alive."

"No!" Sherlock cried in disbelief. "No, it cannot be!" 

"He's been quiet ever since." Mycroft replied stoically. 

"He's probably torturing John!" Sherlock bellowed. 

Mycroft's frown tightened. Sherlock sighed frustratingly and walked towards the door. 

"Where do you think you're going?" Mycroft asked. 

Sherlock turned up the collar of his favorite blue coat. "I'm going to find John."

Sherlock made his way out to the street. He hailed a taxi and gave the address of 221B Baker Street. The driver gave him a quizzical look but merged onto the road anyway. A little while later, Sherlock was walking up the stairs of his former home. He griped the handle to 221B and found it locked which was odd in itself. Mrs. Hudson would have never locked it. When Sherlock turned towards the staircase, Mrs. Hudson had began ascending the steps. The landlady gazed up at Sherlock and froze. 

"Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock greeted warmly. 

"You've got some nerve Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson frowned disapprovingly at the detective. 

"Whatever do you mean?" Sherlock asked, cocking his head. 

Mrs. Hudson sighed. "John went missing Sherlock. He didn't leave a note or anything. He left everything."

"I know Mrs. Hudson, I'm going to bring him back." 

Mrs. Hudson sighed again. Sherlock hated seeing her so forlorn. 

"Let me show you what's happened to John." Mrs. Hudson replied. She produced a key from her sweater pocket. Then she reluctantly opened the door. 

"I left everything as it was." Mrs. Hudson explained. "I thought he would come back." 

Once inside the flat, Sherlock felt a wave of guilt rush over him. The flat looked as if a tornado blew through. All of the furniture, except for their chairs Sherlock noted, were askew. Papers and books were scattered across the floor. Sherlock maneuvered into the kitchen and saw his chemistry set in shards. 

"He wouldn't eat Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson said tearfully. "For two weeks everyone would check up on him, but he pushed them away. He wasn't himself at all. You were gone too long Sherlock."

Sherlock walked around the rom as Mrs. Hudson spoke. he found all of Mycroft's security cameras disabled. His mouth twitched upwards, feeling slightly proud of John.

"I'm going to find him." Sherlock replied purposefully. "I will bring him home."


	4. Spanish Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, John has given up all hope of being rescued. Now, he only focuses on surviving. With Moriarty relentlessly torturing him, John doesn't know how much more his mind and body can take. Meanwhile, Sherlock is searching vigorously for his best friend, following a breadcrumb trail Moriarty is leaving behind.

You'll Wish You Never Met Me  
Chapter Four   
Spider Venom

John Watson knelt beside James Moriarty underneath a business table. His back protested rom the strain, and his knees ached. A leather collar with iron studs was latched around his neck. Attached to the collar was a chain that linked down to the floor. Moriarty claimed that he was punishing John as if he were a disobedient animal. Fingers crawled onto John's scalp, making him shiver. John had long ago given up the possibility of Sherlock or anyone else coming to rescue him; now he just focused on surviving. 

"That will be enough for now, Prime Minister." Moriarty concluded the meeting, enhancing his grip on John's head. 

Moriarty took a deep breath as the visitor left the room. Then, he cleared his throat and John crawled from under the table, kneeling beside Moriarty's chair. 

"You've been so good lately." Moriarty praised, running his fingers through his pet's hair. "I might even forget about your little escape earlier today."

John whimpered. He had been so close! He was able to run to the door of Moriarty's mansion. Yes, mansion, the house was huge and it had taken John several minutes to find the front door. However, when John touched the handle, some device shot out an electrocution shock through his body. As John writhed on the floor, Moriarty had caught up with him and merely shook his head. Now, John realized how serious Moriarty really was. 

"But," Moriarty sighed. "Let it not be said I'm not a man of my word. Come, pet."

Moriarty tugged on John's chain making it rattle in protest. John fell onto his hands with a grunt. Moriarty stood from his chair and unhooked John's chain from the floor. John crawled on his hands and knees following behind Moriarty. John kept his head down as they made their way into John's "punishment room". John had gone through many horrors and nightmares in that room. He never knew what to expect from his Master; that's what he was to call Moriarty now. James dragged if they knew that they towards the back wall. Two chains with thick clasps at the ends hung down sorrowfully. As if they knew that they were made to only inflict pain. 

John couldn't suppress a whimper as Moriarty hooked the clasps onto John's wrists. John hung limply with his back facing Moriarty. He dreaded what was to come. Moriarty grinned sadistically. He produced a long knife from his suit-coat. He gripped the handle and pinched the hem of John's shirt with his other hand. With one clean upstroke, Moriarty cut his pet's shirt in half, allowing the two pieces fall into the crooks of John's elbows. Moriarty continued to grin as he stalked over to an open brick fireplace in the corner behind John. On top of the dying embers lay a set of long, metal claws that were red-hot from the embers. James gripped the handle carefully and presented it to John.

"Do you know what this is pet?" Moriarty inquired. 

John craned his neck towards Moriarty's voice. His eyes widened to see the white-hot claws in Moriarty's hands. He shook his head vigorously and began to strain against his shackles. 

"This is called a Spanish Spider." Moriarty explained, ignoring John's struggles. "They normally would use these on adulterous women. The torturer would heat it up just so and then rip the accused woman's breast off. Let's test it shall we?"

John shook his head again. He shook the chains and tried to back away from Moriarty, but he couldn't. John took a deep inhale of breath just before Moriarty drove the metal claws into John's calf on his right leg. John's eyes widened in shock at first, then he screamed. He could feel the fire burning through his veins and incinerating his skin. His voice echoed through the room, and was never ending. 

"Stop! Please, that's enough! I can't." John cried and pleaded for Moriarty to finish. 

The Consulting Criminal huffed and he ripped the claws from John's thigh. The ex-soldier sagged to the ground with his injured leg unable to hold him up. John knew that without proper treatment, his leg could get badly infected. His thigh bleed sluggishly. John could feel his crimson life dripping down into his shoes. 

"I think that's enough for you pet." Moriarty claimed. He took his phone from his pocket and snapped a picture of the crestfallen John.

Message Sent:  
"picture"  
"Don't worry dear, I only maimed your pet, not broken him."  
-M


	5. Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this the final chapter John Watson finally returns home. But not in the way most would expect. Besides, Moriarty did warn Sherlock he would burn his heart- remember?

You'll Wish You Never Met Me  
Chapter 5: Heartbreak  
Warning: Major Character Death; I think you can guess who

Sherlock Holmes growled when he received Moriarty's message. It had been days, and no leads, no clues, nothing! His John was in danger because his impetuous brother couldn't do anything. Sherlock shook his head, and tried to focus, tried to think. But nothing could keep him in line like John. John was his best friend, his only friend. He had to save him. Sherlock scowled as he heard the unmistakable footsteps of his brother. The detective flung himself in his chair with his back to the door. Mycroft Holmes frowned when he saw the back of his brother.

"Really Sherlock, this is childish." Mycroft complained, sitting in John's chair. 

"I already have a case!" Sherlock replied. "I don't want to do any dirty work for you." 

"Sherlock, this is serious!" Mycroft interjected. "I have a file of Moriarty's whereabouts over the last few years. This may help you."

The detective perked up a little upon hearing Mycroft's news. As much as he despised using his brother's resources, this he couldn't pass. 

"Why didn't you give me this sooner?" Sherlock demanded, swinging his long legs over his chair.

Mycroft huffed indignantly. He crossed his legs, watching as Sherlock sifted through the papers. Then, the doorbell rang, startling both men. They looked at each other instinctively. Wondering who should answer. Mycroft looked at his brother coldly. Sherlock shifted uncomfortably under his older brother's gaze. Neither of them wanted to go see for fear of something unspoken. Sherlock's phone beeped, and he received a text. 

'Hope you like it :).' -M 

"My," Sherlock whispered, holding up his phone. 

Mycroft glanced at his brother's message. His face blanched a little. But Mycroft put on a brave face. He stood stiffly, and made his way to the door. 

"My, please." Sherlock didn't know what he was pleading for. But he just had to say it. "I may not be him."

"In your own words brother mine." Mycroft sighed. "Whenever you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

With those words, Sherlock pulled away. He sat in his chair thinking as Mycroft made his way down the stairs. There was no profile in the window. But something deep in Mycroft begged him to open the door. Taking a deep breath, and praying to any deity that would listen, Mycroft opened the door. He immediately pulled a handkerchief to his nose to cover the putrid smell. He looked down on the doorstep to see the mutated body of John Watson. The government official fell to the ground in shock. The doctor's body was barely recognizable. The left shoulder and leg were both carnal. They were carelessly wrapped in little linen. There were bruises on his wrists, ankles, and throat. There were crudely twisted scars on the doctor's back. Mycroft braved a focused look on them. They read Moriarty's name. Mycroft clutched the iron bars of the stairs railing as Sherlock bounded down the stairs. 

"Mycroft!" Sherlock cried, reaching out to his brother.

"S-sentiment, sentiment," Mycroft shook under Sherlock's hands. 

Sherlock looked down at his brother. What had caused him to act like this? Sherlock finally looked down at the body beside Mycroft. His eyes widened in shock.

"John!" Sherlock cried, inspecting his friend's wounds. "John, no." 

Sherlock checked, double checked John's body. He figured out everything Moriarty had done. But John couldn't, he just couldn't, could he?

"My, is he?" Sherlock whimpered, huddling into his brother. 

Mycroft swallowed hard. He wrapped his arms protectively around Sherlock's shoulders. They sat and rocked each other back and forth for comfort. 

"Yes," Mycroft affirmed. "John Watson is, dead." 

Fin


End file.
